the
business of growing sponges much as it does on the growing of wheat or
any other form of farming, only it is called aquiculture instead of
agriculture. Sponge planting isn't so very different from potato
planting."

"It looks entirely different to me," the boy's host replied, as he went
down the wharf steps. "I'm sorry Mr. Collier was called away this
afternoon, but I may as well give a preliminary look over this
sponge-farming business and you boys might as well come along. There's
a man here who wants me to buy his sponge farm. Since Mr. Collier is
here I'm not going to decide anything without his advice. He doesn't
want you this afternoon, does he?"

Colin hesitated a moment.

"Not as far as I know, Mr. Murren," he answered.

"I wish you would come, then," urged the capitalist. "You've picked up
some ideas in Washington which may be of help."

"I'll be glad to come, if you feel I'm any use to you," the boy replied,
flattered at this evidence that he could be of service, "I was only
afraid that I'd be in the way."

Colin followed Paul and his father into the boat, where was waiting a
negro as black as the proverbial black hat, a local fisherman who had
taken up sponge growing, and who, while shrewd enough for a business
deal, knew little about sponges.

"You were saying that the Bureau of Fisheries is going to take up
sponge-farming?" the prospective buyer asked. "Do you know what success
the government has had so far?"

"Enough to show that it can be done and that's about all," the boy
replied. "Before long, I think, the Bureau will have a station down on
the Keys here and that will be one of the first questions they will
probably take up. As I heard it put, the Bureau aims to farm every acre
of water as thoroughly as every acre of land."

"That," said the capitalist, "is an ideal that gives all sorts of
chances for development."

Presently the boatman stopped and, resting on his oars, said:

"Lots o' sponges hyeh, boss."

The would-be buyer took the water glass and looked through it at the
bottom, but he was unaccustomed to the appearance of growing sponges and
also to the use of a water glass, so that he gained little from it.

"I don't see any," he said.

"Aren't there any round liver-colored lumps, Mr. Murren?" the boy asked.

"Yes, there are lots of those," was the reply.

"Those are sponges."

"They don't look like it."

"They are, sir, though. A skeleton doesn't ever look just like